The Devil's Hands
by Anemiatic
Summary: Many years before Forks, Edward met Bella in a former life. He was a newly created vampire still finding his place in the world, and she was an innocent girl who pledged her life to the Church. Sort of AU. 1920s Chicago. Rating might change later.


_My first try at Twilight fanfic, we'll see how it goes..._

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The Devil's Hands by anemiatic

One

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The end of my life began on a deceptively beautiful day.

It had been raining all week, and the sunlight that had finally emerged was more than welcome. I was relieved to see the clouds roll away; the gardens wouldn't have been able to handle much more. It would take a few days for the drooping leaves in the flower beds to recover, but at least we still had fresh vegetables for supper.

The basket of carrots and green beans was heavy, but I lugged it around to the church entrance anyway. Every extra minute spent outside was one less minute scrubbing floors. Even so, I couldn't stand the sunshine for long. There was a slight breeze, but a black habit absorbs a lot of heat. Before long I had to duck inside, into the shade.

The church was completely silent, as usual. The evening prayer was still hours away. I smiled as I stepped into the narthex, closing the doors behind me as quietly as possible. The abbey's church was small, barely more than a chapel compared to Holy Name, but I'd always found it peaceful. I set my basket of vegetables down long enough to dip my fingertips in the stoup of holy water before entering the nave.

I had gone only a few steps when I jumped, barely keeping a hold on my basket. The church wasn't empty after all. A shadowed figure was slumped in one of the rear pews, sitting so still that I had almost missed it completely. While sunlight was streaming in through the stained-glass windows, the young man huddled in the darkness between the beams. He didn't move as I approached.

"Excuse me," I called timidly as I drew up to his row. "Are you all right?" The chill of fear crept into my stomach. He was so still; so silent. Was he-?

"I'm not dead," said the man, a hint of bitter laughter in his voice. He finally moved, his head turning away from me. "At least, not in the way you think."

I smiled and shifted the weight of the basket against my hip. "The Lord brings new life," I offered. "No matter how bad things may seem, it's never too late. With God's help, you can have a new beginning."

There was no reply. I began to feel vaguely uncomfortable. I was alone with this man, and if he was at the end of his rope or something, there was no telling what he might do.

"Most people go to the cathedral," I tried. "Only sisters worship here."

"You're afraid of me," he said.

"No," I lied.

"You should be." There was definitely something odd about him, something I couldn't put my finger on. His voice was smooth but heavy, far too heavy for his age. "I'm a monster."

The shadows settled on him like a cloak, wrapping him in sullen darkness. I felt my breath quicken in my throat. Was he a gangster? A murderer? These were dangerous times... but the gangsters usually went in groups to the cathedral, and he'd come to the abbey church alone. Hunched in the darkened pew, he seemed like the most lonely man in the world. Without really knowing why, I reached toward his shoulder with my free hand.

"Don't!" he barked sharply, his face still turned from me. I shrank back, clinging to my basket as if it were the blessed shield of the Almighty. How had he seen me coming closer?

"Just leave me alone," he muttered, still not looking at me.

"I'm sorry," I stammered. Clearly this was a situation beyond what a novice could handle. I decided to fetch the Mother Superior; she'd know how to help this man. I turned to the front of the church and took a step toward the door that led to the abbey.

My foot caught in the hem of my skirts.

A yelp escaped my throat as I pitched forward. The basket slipped from my hands. Carrots and beans spilled everywhere, and I landed in a heap among them, habit tangled around my legs and veil wrapped around my face. I'd never been so mortified in all my life. As I struggled to free myself, I heard laughter. A light, gentle chuckle, amused more than mocking.

A strong hand gripped my shoulder. "Are you all right, Sister?"

I yanked the veil away from my face. My eyes widened as I stared up at the man now bending over me, concern in his features and an amused twinkle in his eyes. His shockingly golden eyes. In a thousand Sundays I had never seen a face like his. He was deathly pale, as white as the parishoners we laid out after their souls departed. An albino? It would explain why he shied away from sunlight, but his hair was the color of the bronze statues in the sanctuary, and his eyes...

"Are you all right?" he repeated.

I blinked, numbly realizing I was gaping at him like a fish, but I couldn't stop staring. He smirked at me, his full lips an alluring contrast to his marble skin. Now that I could see him properly, he looked younger than I'd expected; barely older than I was, if that.

"Yes," I forced out. "I'm fine..." My hand slipped as I leaned on a carrot, and I remembered the mess around me. "Oh dear," I babbled, scrambling for my basked. "If Reverend Mother sees this..."

The strange man chuckled as he knelt down and gathered up a handful of green beans. "Not like most nuns, are you?"

"I will be," I said indignantly, tossing bunches of carrots back into the basket. "Reverend Mother promises she'll work the quirks out of me before I take my vows."

"That's a shame."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, but he only shook his head and smiled to himself. I scowled and bent over the scattered vegetables, but my eyes kept straying to the pale man beside me. He was dressed like anyone else our age, in a brown tweed suit of the kind that was common on the streets, but somehow I knew as strongly as anything that he was special. Even crouched in the shadows of the church, he was beautiful, like a statue of an angel. I couldn't stop watching his long, slender fingers at work on the tiles.

After a moment, his hands paused. A smirk twitched on his lips, and I blushed and looked away quickly. I'd been staring again! What was wrong with me?

"What's your name, Sister?"

My voice squeaked when I tried to speak, and I coughed hurriedly, blushing like a little girl. "Annabelle," I finally managed.

"Edward Mas - er, Cullen. Edward Cullen." His entire demeanor darkened again, all trace of a smile vanishing from his lips. He glanced at the nearby multicolored sunbeams with an odd expression - was it longing? - on his face.

"What brings you to God's house, Mr. Cullen?" I tried to keep the conversation light, but the brief window of warmth was gone. Edward was once again the cold, despairing man I'd found sinking into the pew.

"What brings anyone?" he answered darkly. "My sins."

I glanced up at his beautiful but gloomy face. My heart hammered in my chest as a touch of my earlier fear rose up inside me. He was young, but many of the criminals in Chicago were younger. Still, I'd been taught to keep my heart open to all God's children.

"They weigh heavy on you," I observed, trying to sound as brave and solid as the nuns of the abbey. "If you like, I can find a priest to hear them and absolve you."

Edward exploded into sudden laughter. He threw his head back, clutched his sides and roared until the entire church echoed with unworldly mirth. I clung to my basket, wide-eyed and trembling in the eerie sound.

"You don't listen, do you?" he scoffed. The ghost of his laughter reverberated around him, bouncing off the high rafters. He stood up so suddenly that I shrank away from him against my will. "I'm a monster. My sins can never be wiped away."

Stepping carefully to avoid the light, Edward whisked a long black overcoat out of the pew where he had been sitting. I shivered as he wrapped it around himself and turned up the collar over his neck. Who was he hiding from, to cover himself so completely on such a warm day? He picked up his hat and pulled it over his ears, and I shook myself out of my thoughts.

"I don't believe that," I insisted, focusing on what little I could still see of Edward beneath the hat's brim. He turned to walk away. I reached toward him, but something held me to the floor.

"All men can be saved," I called out as Edward strode off down the aisle. Every fiber of my being cried out to me to help him despite my fears. Edward was as beautiful as an angel; no matter his sins, he belonged in the bosom of God.

"I am no longer among men," he tossed over his shoulder as he reached the church doors and flung them open. He seemed to shudder in the bright sunlight, but kept walking, leaving only a final remark to echo behind him as the heavy doors closed.

"Remember, Lucifer was beautiful too."

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_I haven't decided yet if I should continue this, what do you guys think?_


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